


The Orphanage

by Ghastjio



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Drabble, Just snippets in a setting that I want to write, Sort Of, The major character death warning is very real however, This fic is all connected but isn't necessarily a big story, This will definitely get more tags just bear with me, kind of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-29 10:41:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19018264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghastjio/pseuds/Ghastjio
Summary: The dream bubbles gobbled up the dead like they were starving. For a while they were content with doomed timelines of those who played the game, but as time passed (or what constitutes as time in the void), they became hungry again. Eventually they found that they didn't need the game as a medium. As long as some version of the person played the game in at least one timeline, they could gobble up the dead of Earth, Alternia, and beyond.The only problem is that many of those dead were children, grubs, and babies. People who still needed guidance. Luckily for them, a few ambitious adults made it their afterlife's work to take care of them. They founded The Orphanage, and over time it grew into something much larger than itself.These are some of its stories.





	The Orphanage

**Author's Note:**

> I'm in the middle of writing another fic but this idea has been floating around in my head for a while now. It's not some epic thing, but more a collection of small drabbles in a connected setting to help me continue to write when I'm stuck on something else. Ideas and prompts are always appreciated! Maybe they'll inspire me!

Karkat groans to himself as he feels a hard chitin claw poke the back of his head again. It’s the third time in as many minutes and, frankly, he’s sick and tired of it. Thankfully he manages to keep a calm outwardly appearance despite the agitation bubbling up inside of him. It’s a good skill to have around here.

Poke poke.

“Hold your hoofbeasts,” he grumbles. “This shit isn’t ready instantly.”

A chitter behind him tells him that Crabdad understands him, but the large looming presence doesn’t leave. Gogdamnit.

Karkat finally turns to face his (he still feels weird calling this Crabdad his) lusus. “Look, if you stay here any longer the little shit is going to get antsy and come out here himself. Do we really want that?”

The lusus blinks and tilts his head in thought. Eventually he lets out another chitter, pats his charge on the shoulder, and turns to skuttle down one of the many hallways. Karkat sighs in relief and turns back to his work. He’s at the stove making a mush that’s disgusting to him but tasty as fuck to grubs. It’s some combination of mostly meat with a few plants and cave mushrooms, but he doesn’t know the exact ingredients. He basically just throws whatever’s in the cabinets into it. As long as it won’t spoil too quickly in warm air, it’s good to go in. Grubs will eat anything.

This grub, however, will only eat hot things. He’ll chew on almost everything but only swallow it if it’s hot. It’s a relief for many of the guardians around here, at least the ones that have to deal with his shenanigans, but still not perfect. If only he’d stop fucking chewing. Karkat stirs the mush one last time before turning the heat off and reaching for a bowl. The grub doesn’t even need to eat, but he always gets grumpy if he goes for too long without something in one of his stomachs, so Karkat indulges him anyway.

Crabdad comes back once the bowl is full, the small pot is resting in the sink, and Karkat is taking his apron off. The lusus lets out another chitter - this time a thankful one - and carefully grabs the bowl in two large claws. Then he scurries off to deal with the little demon and Karkat is left in the kitchen by himself. He turns on the sink and waits for it to get to a scalding temperature before he even starts to scrub the pot. This is one of the few times he’s thankful he’s a mutant. Hot water always works best, and when you’re one of the hottest trolls around (not like that, jegus), cleaning always goes quicker. That also means that he’s saddled with scrubbing up the majority of the dishes around here, but there’s always so few that he never minds. It gives him time to think, anyway.

The pot cleans up quickly and it doesn’t take much effort to dry it off and store it away. Now what? He could go check up on the kids, maybe help the guardians, but it’s one of those rare times where almost everyone is asleep. He finally has the opportunity for time to himself if he wants to take it, but somehow that just makes him more lost. What would he even do? He could read, but books haven’t been working right lately. He’d need to get Terezi to fix that and she’s still out. Maybe a movie? But he’s already watched them all ten times over. He sighs again and, for the meantime, decides to make his way towards the front door. Maybe some fresh air would help him figure out what to do.

Karkat opens the door and steps out into a lush garden. He silently closes the door behind him and starts walking down the carefully maintained stone path. Around him giant trees Dave calls redwoods stretch towards a starry sky. Behind him is a cozy log cabin, much too small to hold the place he was just in. He takes a moment just to drink in the sights and the cool breeze flowing past. It’s lovely outside. With his eyes closed it almost feels like Alternia again, on one of those rare peaceful nights where he could stand on his balcony. Maybe next time he ventures outside the bubbles will show his lawnring. That would be nice.

A sound disturbs him and he blinks his eyes open. A quick look around him confirms that the sound didn’t come from one of the many bushes, but then he hears it again. Karkat frowns and continues down the path, taking a turn he knows will lead him to the edge of the garden. He rarely leaves it and the place he now calls his hive. (Home, Jade would sometimes chastise him about. Home. The hives he’d known were not homes. This is.) Maybe his will be one of the few times he ventures beyond the fence.

It isn’t. He comes in view of the entrance - an archway with delicate, flowering ivy growing on it - and stops. There’s a now-familiar lusus there on the border between his home and the surprisingly small world beyond it. Pounce anxiously paws the ground before taking a few steps towards him. She isn’t what made him stop, and she also isn’t what made the noise. The causes of both things are wrapped in a bundle delicately held in the lusus’ lower mouth. Two small grubs (babies, he reminds himself, babies) are inside. One’s head is covered in blood, like it had been split open, and the other is pale, shivering, and quietly coughing. That was the noise he heard before.

Pounce makes a low sound and takes a few more steps to rub her head against Karkat’s leg. He bites his lip but kneels down to gently take the bundle from her. Up close, he recognizes them. Dave and Rose, only so small and young (and fragile). He gently wipes the blood from Dave’s forehead. There’s no wound. There never is, not here in the dream bubbles, but sometimes the evidence remains. Rose coughs again like her tiny lungs aren’t used to air and Karkat croons lowly to try to comfort her. She blinks and looks over at him; white eyes meeting white.

He stands and follows the path back to the cabin. Pounce pads along and looks towards the distance as the surroundings slowly start to change, but Karkat’s eyes are on the two little humans in his arms. He doesn’t notice the large lake coming into existence just outside the garden. He just wipes away more of the blood when some of it threatens to drip into Dave’s eyes. He’ll need a secondary name for these two, or at least an identifier of sorts; he needs something to differentiate the two of them from the rest of the Daves and Roses he and the other guardians have been caring for.

First he’ll have to warm them up and clean the blood off of Dave. Fuck, blood. He hates it. Sometimes he hates his job too, but there’s a reason The Orphanage was founded. To give those who died too young a second chance.


End file.
